


a tourist in the waking world

by seventhstar



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Depression, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Overdosing, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 13:28:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12558400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhstar/pseuds/seventhstar
Summary: It is winter in St. Petersburg, and Viktor is cold and numb. Not just on the outside, where the tips of his nose and ears are red, where the chill has seeped under his collar and down the back of his neck, newly expose by his recent haircut. He is cold and numb inside, too: in the marrow of his bones, underneath his ribs, in some secret place inside his beating heart. The cold comes in some days first thing in the morning. It creeps beneath his covers. It chases him across the ice. It lingers in him as he walks home. It is embedded so far inside him that even the blast of heat as he steps into the lobby cannot drive it out.





	a tourist in the waking world

**Author's Note:**

> Heed the warnings, please.

(Later, Masha will say, mournfully, that he _seemed so normal._ Viktor will not be surprised.)

It is winter in St. Petersburg, and Viktor is cold and numb. Not just on the outside, where the tips of his nose and ears are red, where the chill has seeped under his collar and down the back of his neck, newly exposed by his recent haircut. He is cold and numb inside, too: in the marrow of his bones, underneath his ribs, in some secret place inside his beating heart. The cold comes in some days first thing in the morning. It creeps beneath his covers. It chases him across the ice. It lingers in him as he walks home. It is embedded so far inside him that even the blast of heat as he steps into the lobby cannot drive it out.

Viktor takes the elevator up to his apartment to spare his aching knees. Makkachin wuffles at him as he passes her; he takes off his coat and hangs it in the closet. He tips food into her bowl, and drinks: one glass of water, one cup of tea. He eats: six ounces of chicken breast, a half cup of beets, a half cup of broccoli.

The dishes go into the dishwasher, which is empty. The apartment remains silent. The whiteness of the walls is closing in on him. Viktor’s hip throbs; he fell earlier, trying to do a quad loop. He doesn’t need a quad loop. He’s not even sure he wants a quad loop. But quads make Viktor happy.

At least, they used to.

Jumping used to make him feel like he could fly. Lately, though, he’s been fixated on the landing: what if he misses it? If he falls? If he breaks his leg and never skates again? If he breaks his neck and—

Viktor’s not going to break his neck. He knows how to fall.

There are things he should be doing. Showering, and washing his face, and deciding about the exhibition skate that he’s been waffling about, and emailing his agent back regarding a sponsorship, and reading the social media update from his public relations manager, and sleeping. He has to do those things tonight. He has to go to practice tomorrow and come home and sleep and do it all again, until his next competition. Until the season is over. He has to keep going.

Viktor’s medal case is overflowing with gold. They promised him that when he started winning he would be happy.

But…

“I don’t want to,” he says aloud. Testing the words. They sound wrong. What Viktor wants is immaterial; he can’t stop midseason. He can’t quit halfway. People have expectations of him.

He wishes he could just do what he wanted.

He wishes he knew what he wanted.

He wishes he was warm.

He wishes—

Viktor clips the leash to Makkachin’s collar. She sits up, tail wagging, and lets him pet her and kiss her and press his face into her curly fur. She’s a good girl. He puts some of Makkachin’s food in a bag with her favorite toy and takes her down the hall to Masha.

Masha is Viktor’s neighbor. She watches Makkachin for him; walks her during the day, keeps her while Viktor is traveling.

He knocks at the door.

Masha appears, disheveled. “Viktor?”

“I have a family emergency,” Viktor lies. He gives her the wide-eyed look of panic from his car commercial last year. “Would you mind? I’m so sorry.”

“Of course! Come in, Makkachin.” She tugs Makkachin into her apartment. “I’ll bring her back tomorrow?”

“Yes, thank you.”

Viktor walks back to his apartment. He goes into the bathroom, and rummages into the cupboard for the bottle. The pills were supposed to help but they made it hard to skate, so he never took them. The label says one a day.

He downs them all, with handfuls of water from the tap.

+

(Sometime after that, Makkachin will start barking. She will claw at the door until Masha lets her out, and she will howl outside Viktor’s apartment until a disgruntled neighbor calls the police.

+

“How could you do this to me?”

 _I didn’t,_ Viktor thinks, bewildered. _I did it to me._

+

His symptoms aren’t serious. His recovery is quick.

He’s back on the ice in time to compete.

They don’t give him any more pills.

+

Dying seems like a lot of work, and Viktor doesn’t have any energy to spare. He goes back to thinking about broken necks instead.

“I’m fine,” he says.

Maybe if he keeps saying it, it will be true again. Viktor zips up his coat futilely against the cold. It’s summer, but winter is still inside him.

He walks home.

(He learns to do the quad loop, though. When he’s midair, risking everything, he feels more alive.)

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't leave concrit or negativity in the comments. This one is personal.


End file.
